


Reindeer Games

by kirana



Series: Supah Sekrit Christmas in July [3]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Christmas, Futurefic, M/M, drunk-Lex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirana/pseuds/kirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't you have people for this sort of thing?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reindeer Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suzvoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/gifts).



        "Don't you have, you know, people for this sort of thing?" was the first thing Clark asked.

        Lex gazed at him steadily—practically the only steady thing about him from the way he was swaying back and forth—then turned away and sniffed haughtily. Clark hastily extended a hand to keep Lex upright when the wobble tried to kick his ass.

        "Of _course_ I do," the bald man said patronisingly. "Just what do you think I use my untold millions _for_?" Then his eyes narrowed and he waved a finger under Clark's nose. "Nonono, don't answer that, I already know what you'll say."

        Clark looked at him with what would have been fondness if their parting three years previous hadn't been so loud and angry. But it had been and so there was no affection of any kind in relation to Lex. Really. "Where are they, then?" he asked instead.

        "Do you think I'm _completely_ heartless?" Lex asked, sounding scandalised. He didn't see Clark's wince at the reminder of one of the things he had said to Lex the last time. "It's _Christmas_ , in case you haven't noticed, and I've given all of the time off. _I'm_ not Scrooge." Lex leaned closer and whispered the next part as if it was a secret. "That's my father, you know. Hell, if we still burned coal, he wouldn't let the meeces—mouses . . . . Kermit's little rodent-type helpers have even _one_ piece of coal."

        Clark carefully did not make fun of Lex's secret fascination with the Muppets because that was something only a friend got to do. Instead, he focused on what Lex had said before the Muppet references had come into play. "Lex, where's your security?"

        "Duh," with a breath heavy in alcohol, "Christmas!"

        " _All_ of them?" Clark asked, beginning to become alarmed.

        "It's Christmas!" Lex insisted.

        "Do you have a _death wish_?" Clark countered.

        Lex shrugged, still only upright by virtue of Clark's help. "Maybe?" he hazarded. "I think one of the drinks I had was a Deathwish. Or maybe a Death Star. Like in Star Wars? or in Star Trek. One of them."

        Clark sighed and tugged at Lex's arm somewhat to his surprise, Lex followed him docilely enough. "Okay, why did you call me?" Clark asked, maneuvering Lex through the bar's doors.

        "If I can't impose on my friends at Christmas time, when _can_ I impose on them?" Lex said with great dignity. And suddenly Lex was no longer following Clark, but leading him. "Hey, are you giving me a ride in your car?" he asked, his eyes wide and excited.

        "I _was_ going to send you home in a taxi," Clark muttered. It was amazing how quickly a drunk Lex's eyes could dim and Clark sighed. "But since you're a trouble magnet, there's no way to be sure you get home safely unless I take you there myself." And, just like that, Lex was happy again.

        "I've never had a ride in your car," Lex confided as Clark unlocked the door and ushered him inside. He twisted in the seat and stuck a foot out. "Hey, can I drive? I let you drive _my_ cars. I think turnabout's only fair."

        Clark gaped at him and then grabbed the errant foot and stuffed it back inside. "No," he said firmly before he shut the door and hurried over to the driver's side.

        "—not," Lex was saying—complaining, really—when the driver's side door opened and Clark slid in. "I let you drive _my_ cars and everything!"

        Clark started the car. "Lex, one, you're drunk, and, two, we kinda haven't been friends for a while, remember?"

        "Oh, yeah . . . . I forgot." And then Lex turned to him. "Am I really drunk?" he asked. "I didn't mean to be, I just wanted some courage."

        Clark slanted a disbelieving look at him. "Lex Luthor, lacking courage? what were you trying to do?"

        Lex scrunched up in his seat and crossed his arms defiantly. "I don't think I'm going to tell you," he said loftily. "You'll just think it's for nefarious purpose, anyway." He sniffed for good measure and muttered, "It's not like I've done nefarious things _recently_ , you know."

        "Yeah, and what about what happened at Cadmus again?" Clark asked.

        "Helloooo, I've already instituted stricter protocol-thingies for stricter supervision and other strict things like that! Also, the guy who did it was penalised according to his contract." Lex sat back, satisfied.

        "How come I haven't heard anything about this?" Clark asked, skeptical. And intrigued. "And what does his contract have to do with it, anyway?"

        "Hi, do you actually work for me and I missed it?" Lex asked brightly. "Duh, Clark, it's _internal_ , that's why you don't know. Why, if I told the whole world everything I did, I wouldn't be able to make any money at _all_."

        "And what about his contract?" Clark prodded when Lex lapsed into silence.

        "Huh? Right, right, his contract." Lax twisted until, somehow, he was sitting cross-legged on the seat—sideways. "I got pretty tired of my scientists being all eviller than me and stupid to boot. I mean, if they're _going_ to do evil genius things, they should use some of their genius to keep it all secret, right?"

        Clark manfully refrained from saying maybe they shouldn't be doing the evil genius thing in the first place. That thing about the contract was too interesting not to pursue. "The contract," he reminded Lex.

        "The contract! I started drawing up special contracts for people who work in my labs. I didn't want to have to fire them when they did something bad, because if I fried them, there'd be bad feelings and then my competitors would be climbing all over each other to learn allllll of my secrets. _Much_ easier to just fine them and keep them working for me."

        Clark had to admit—reluctantly—that it sounded good. On the surface, at least. "What sort of fines?" he asked.

        "Oh," Lex said. "Big ones. After all, it wouldn't be much of a deterrent if I asked for pocket change!"

        "And where does the money go?"

        Lex opened his mouth to reply, then shut it and stared at Clark. "Really, Clark, why would I line my pockets with it?" he asked condescendingly. "What would I do with _more_ money? The money, _of course_ , goes into paying for all the damages, etc, etc."

        "Lex, those things cost—well, they cost a lot!" Clark said, just a little horrified.

        "I know," Lex said, preening. "Some of my top scientists have _huge_ loans with LexCash and, since I still pay competitive salaries, their best choice is to _continue_ working for me."

        "Lex . . . ." Clark was aghast. "Lex, you don't make them pay for _all_ of it, do you?"

        "Nononono, that wouldn't be fair," the bald man said, shaking a finger. "They often don't even pay _half_ of it. After all, the fault _also_ lies partially with LexCorp, right? For failing to provide adequate supervisory thingies." Lex turned up his nose. "See, I _do_ listen to you, Clark."

        Clark sighed and thumped his head against the steering wheel. Luckily, they were stopped at a red light, so it wasn't like he was being a bad driver or anything.

        Suddenly, Lex's hand was between Clark's forehead and the steering wheel. "You shouldn't do that," Lex told him, frowning. "You'll dent the wheel."

        Clark snorted. "Nice to know you don't care about me denting my _head_ ," he muttered.

        It was Lex's turn to snort. "Gee, Clark, how dumb do you think I am? Duh, you're _Superman_. _Of course_ I was worried about the ca— Hey!"

        That last was in response to the impressive skid the car had been thrown into when Clark had slammed on the brakes.

        " _What did you say_?"

        "I _said_ , geez, let me get you a Porsche, Clark, so _you_ can be the Maniac in the Porsche," Lex shot back. "Somehow, the Maniac in the Piece of Crap Nominally Known as a Car doesn't quite cut it."

        "Tha-that's not what you said!"

        "It isn't?" Lex looked thoughtful for a second. "Huh. Coulda _sworn_ I did."

        Clark carefully released the steering wheel and instead fisted his hands in his lap. "Lex, _thinking_ about doing something and actually _doing_ it are two different things," he said as patiently as he could.

        "huh, you say that _now_ , but just you wait until the _next_ time you think I've done something wrong!" Lex said triumphantly. "I mean, it's not like I was actually going to _use_ the miniature sabre-toothed kitties for assassinating people or something."

        "Lex," Clark interrupted, "I meant the Superman thing."

        Lex stared at him for a moment. "Oh my God, you _do_ think I'm that dumb! Gee, let me think, what's that up in the sky? Is it a bird? A plane? Or maybe it's my former best friend in the whole wide world dressed in the world's worst costume! Hello! Genius here!"

        "Wh-why didn't you ever _say_ anything?"

        Lex was silent for a moment. "I was going to," he said at last. Then he blinked. "Hey, wait! I just did! I guess all that alcohol was good for something, huh?"

        " _That_ was what you needed the courage for?" Clark asked, floored.

        Lex sniffed and looked away. "A _Luthor_ never lacks courage."

        Clark thought on that for a long moment. Then he thought about what it meant that Lex had known what he was since Superman's beginning _and_ that Lex had had to get _drunk_ to tell him about it.

        Then he executed a neat turn—well, neat considering the weather.

        "H-hey!" Lex plastered himself to the window as LexCorp Tower fell away. "Clark, are you _lost_? How can you be _lost_?! My Tower is the tallest tower in the city! Hi! You just _passed it_!"

        "That's because I changed my mind," Clark said, trying to keep his attention mostly on the road.

        Lex blinked. "We're . . . not?" A pause. "Where are we going?"

        "You'll find out when we get there, won't you?" Clark asked through gritted teeth. He was beginning to regret his change of heart.

        "Awwww, c'mon, Clark, I told you _my_ deep, evil secret," Lex wheedled.

        Clark spared him a look. " _That_ was a deep, evil secret?" He shook his head. "I think maybe you _do_ need therapy."

        "Ha! Of _course_ I need therapy," :ex said disdainfully. " _I_ grew up with _Lionel_ , remember? My childhood psychoses could put a cadre of psychologists through college."

        Okay, so he had a point. But he was still distracting Clark and, with the road conditions being what they were, that was never good. He took advantage of another red light to reach into the back seat and root around for . . . . Ah-ha!

        "here," he said, bringing the stuffed reindeer out of the bag and almost shoving it into Lex's arms. "merry Christmas and can you _please_ let me drive now?"

        At first, it seemed his brilliant plan was working. He stole a look at Lex. Lex, who was petting the plush fur of the reindeer with a delighted look on his face. Yeah, he'd just get another gift for Lois. Maybe she wouldn't remember she'd given him that bed-and-bath set—ha, ha, he already knew he was gay, she didn't have to give him bubblegum bubble bath to rub it in—last Christmas.

        Yeah, his plan had definitely worked, he thought with satisfaction as he pulled into the parking lot he used.

        "Lex, we're here," he said, turning towards his passenger. And, in turning, saw a sight to soften even the hardest of hearts. Lex Luthor, cutthroat businessman, was curled up against the window, hugging the stuffed reindeer Clark had given him to his chest. A small smile, looking decidedly out of place, graced his face.

        "Lex?" Clark called tentatively, before a sappy smile grew on his own face. Lex was asleep. Or passed out, but asleep sounded . . . better. More innocent.

        Clark weighed the pros and cons of just _how_ he could move Lex, then shrugged. It wasn't like Lex didn't _know_ , so he didn't have to hide his superspeed. Plus, it would probably help to keep Lex from waking if he _did_ use some speed.

        The justifications out of the way, he used some of that speed to get both himself and Lex out of the car, through the cold night, and into what passed for warmth. He was just trying to get at his keys without dropping Lex when the bald man stirred.

        "Clark, what're you doing?" was mumbled into Clark's shoulder.

        Clark managed to get his keys in hand. "Getting you inside," he replied absently as he fitted the key into the lock. A turn, a forceful nudge, and the door skidded open. "You can sleep it off here and I'll take you home tomorrow."

        "Mmmmm, okay." And then Lex bolted upright—or as much so as being in Clark's arms would allow. "Clark! You didn't forget my present, did you?"

        An Awkward lunge caught said present when Lex's abrupt actions sent it flying. "No, here it is," he said, handing it back. Lex grabbed it and gave it a hug; obviously, his little nap hadn't done much good. Clark wondered just how _much_ Lex had had to drink, anyway, to still be falling down drunk. He set Lex on his feet carefully, steadying him when his balance stayed on vacation.

        Lex looked around, blinking owlishly. "Clark, where are we?" His eyes widened. "Wait, I know this place! It's _your_ place! Isn't it? You took me to _your_ place!" Then his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

        "Ummmm . . . ." Okay, Lex was not allowed to ask questions to which Clark did not have the answers to.

        "We were at LexCorp Tower," Lex mused, obviously thinking out loud. "But you just implied that _your_ place had been your destination all along. Which means . . . ."

        It meant clark was in trouble, _that's_ what it meant.

        "You wanted to be with me for Christmas!" Lex crowed.

        "I didn't!" Clark reflexively denied. "No, wait, I mean . . . uh . . . ."

        "Liar, liar, pants on fire," Lex taunted in a singsong voice. He raised an eyebrow. "Not that it would bother _you_."

        "no, I— Fine, I did!" clark sulked. "I just . . . think we have a lot to talk about and I thought it would be easier if you were still around tomorrow morning, okay?"

        Lex laughed at him. "Clark, there is no way in _hell_ you have enough alcohol for us to be able to talk!"

        Clark growled and refused to say anything else as he pushed Lex into his bedroom. He took one of the pillows off of his bed and the spare blanket from his closet and pointedly closed the door behind him, leaving Lex to tuck himself in as he settled on the couch.

        He was just starting to drop off when he heard the particular creak of his bedroom door opening.

        "Clark?" Lex whispered loudly. "Clark, can I have a glass of water in case I get thirsty?"

        Clark ground his teeth and jammed the pillow over his head. Mr Criminal Mastermind could find his own dam—darn water. Clark was _asleep_.

***

        It was the creak of a door closing that woke him up. That particular creak belonged to the front door. Not that he'd spent time learning the personal creaks of each of his doors in a fit of boredom or anything.

        That particular creak, for that particular door, only came out to play when someone was trying to sneak in.

        Or out.

        His eyes popped open just in time to see the door shut. He pushed himself up—and then let himself fall back to the cough with a groan. If Lex was gone, then there was no point in running after him. He'd be clammed up tight again, secure behind the facade of Lex Luthor, businessman. And Clark had finally grown out of his habit of charging headfirst into brick walls. Metaphorical ones, anyway. Real ones still didn't stand a chance against him and his Head of Steel.

        "I _thought_ I heard you moving about." Lex's voice; he sounded vaguely satisfied. "merry Christmas, Clark."

        Clark's eyes popped open again and he craned his head back until he could see Lex smiling at him. ". . . Lex?"

        "Merry Christmas," Lex repeated, "rise and shine, bright the day, or however you want me to say it. We're a little late for winter solstice, but if you want the greeting, just let me know." He made a sort of lifting motion with his hands. "Come on, Clark, Christmas waits for no man, be he human or alien."

        Clark pushed himself up slowly, using that time to try to figure out what the hell— _heck_ was going on.

        "Don't take too long," Lex said, heading into Clark's kitchen. "The pancakes are almost done."

        Pancakes? he took in what had been his living room. It now resembled a picturesque Christmas card front, complete with fully trimmed Christmas tree—not his—and a fully stuffed stocking        also not his. He conveniently ignored the tags he could see with his name on them.

        He made it to the bathroom in kind of a shocked stupor. He noted absently that his bathtub was wet. Had he been the one drinking last night, to not (super) hear _anything_ Lex had done? But, no, he'd thought Lex had been too out of it to manage what he so obviously had. But _why_ hadn't he heard anything?

        "Lex?" he called, coming out of the bathroom. He definitely did not creep back to the living room and skirt the bright and shining tree. "Lex, what's all this?"

        Lex poked his head out of the kitchen. "You know very well what it is. You brought me to your home on Christmas Eve and you said you wanted to talk in the morning. But since it's _Christmas_ morning, I thought it would be nice to make breakfast and then one thing led to another, and, _damn_ , how have you stayed alive this long, Clark? I think I could've had a brass band in here and you would've slept through it."

        "Th-that's not the point!" Clark protested.

        "No?" There was that eyebrow, expressing carefully cultivated doubt _again_. "Look, Clark, I _agree_ with you. We _do_ have to have a long talk with each other, but . . . could we maybe have a bit of Christmas first?" Lex paused long enough to take a deep breath. "I've missed my best friend, you know." That last sentence was said in a much quieter voice.

        Clark swallowed and opened his mouth. And then closed it. "Lex—" A deep breath of his own. "I've missed you, too," he confessed.

        Lex looked startled for the barest second before grinning at him. "And that ends the talking until after presents time," he decreed. "So get your ass in the kitchen before I decide to eat all these pancakes without you."

        It was, Clark reflected, one of the strangest days in his life and, with his life, that was saying something.

        But he could smell the pancakes and bacon and, really, if a truce was what was needed to get his best friend back, then he'd be all over it for as long as possible.

***

        The pancakes had been eaten, the kitchen tidied, and Clark was willing to bet Lex didn't want their truce to end any more than he did.

        And then Lex was ushering him into his own living room and maybe Clark would have to revise his conclusion, given the small amounts of excitement that, from a Luthor, were pretty much equal to—or even surpassing        the excited screams of children on a rampage. Not that he didn't like children. As a matter of fact, he had rescued some just the other week.

        "What's the hurry?" Clark asked weakly. "It's Christmas _Day_ , that means we have all _day_. And, and I didn't really get you anything!"

        "You got me a stuffed reindeer," he was reminded.

        "But I got it for Lois, really! You shouldn't have a secondhand gift!"

        "you may have bought it for Lois, but you gave it to _me_." Lex gave him one more push, then sat down beside the Christmas tree. He patted the floor beside him. "Come on, Clark, I don't bite." His grin showed all his teeth. "Much."

        Yeah, and that was _so_ reassuring. And definitely not even a little arousing. But he couldn't come up with a real reason _not_ to, so he found himself gingerly settling himself on the floor of his living room beside Lex Luthor, former best friend and the one currently sitting on the _floor_ of Clark's _living room_.

        He figured he was entitled to at least a bit of a freak out.

        And then he actually _looked_ at the tree. With all the shock and half-awakeness of the morning, he hadn't actually _seen_ what was under the tree. It turned out to be a modest mountain of presents. Once again, it looked like he was reaping the rewards of treating Lex with a little kindness. The first time, it had been a truck; this time, it was Christmas, Luthor-style.

        "How did you _do_ all this?" he breathed out.

        Lex shrugged. "All I did, really, was have it moved," he said deprecatingly. "Here, open this one first."

        Clark took the gift automatically. "What do you mean, you already had everything?" not that Lex had actually _said_ that, but it had been _implied_ , and it was all giving him a headache.

        Lex pondered the question for a moment. "If I answer that, will you open it?" he asked finally.

        Clark gave the gift in his lap a narrow-eyed star and shook it cautiously. It didn't _sound_ like a doomsday weapon and it was a little small to be one, so he figured it was safe enough.

        " . . . a shirt?" He glared at Lex. "Gee, thanks for commenting on my fashion sense _again_."

        "It's not my fault you seem to be colourblind," Lex protested.

        Clark sighed. "Fine. Present is opened, accepted, thank you, now what did you mean?"

        "I bought Christmas presents for you every year," Lex replied immediately.

        "What, every year? This," waving a hand at the modest mountain, "is _not_ three years worth of Christmas."

        "Open this one and I'll answer," Lex said, handing him another present.

        Clark glared at him again, but took it anyway. He opened it and . . . pulled out another shirt. "Gee, thanks," he said through gritted teeth. "Answer."

        "Of course this isn't just three years," Lex said disdainfully.

        Clark opened his mouth and Lex handed him another present. He shut his mouth with a snap and unwrapped it. "Nice sweater. How long?"

        "2001."

        "But you _got_ me a present that year," Clark protested, automatically taking the present handed to him. "Gee, what a surprise: more clothes."

        "Oh, but it wasn't the present I _wanted_ to give you," Lex said.

        Clark digested that for a moment, then held his hand out. "Fine, I'll bite. What present did you want to get me that year?"

        Lex hesitated in handing over the next present. "Ask another question," he said. "I won't answer that one."

        Clark gaped. "Why not?" he demanded, almost snatching the present from Lex. "Silk pyjamas. Cute."

        "Because I don't know how the answer will be received," Lex answered. He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe if you open all the gifts, I'll know more about your reaction."

        "Can I still ask questions?" Clark groaned when Lex held a wrapped box out to him with a mischievous grin. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he muttered. "Yay. Sheets." He waved the package at Lex. "Except these won't fit my bed, _mastermind_."

        "Of course you can still ask questions," Lex said serenely. "How would I be able to judge your eventual reaction without more data from you?"

        "Why don't you tell me something I don't know," Clark grumbled. "Woo. Fuzzy slippers."

        "Your reaction depends on your dating history," Lex said in an apparent non sequitur.

        Clark looked at him strangely. "uh-huh. So, what does my dating history—or lack thereof—have to do with anything?" he accepted another gift. "How many _are_ there?" he complained, holding up the fuzzy blanket in the package. It looked warm and, of course, matched what colour scheme there was in his bedroom.

        "It will let me know just how much of a chance there is of you having a good reaction. And there's enough; I'll give you that one for free." Lex winked at him and Clark flushed.

        "Uh, um, okay . . . ." Clark was just a little bit flustered. "I don't have a lot of luck with my dates, what with all the emergencies and miscellaneous evil plots that always come up just before I meet my date. Um, but when I _did_ , I guess I went for redheads. Slender, but not thin. Strong, but not overdeveloped, you know?" He glowered when Lex too-obviously turned his laughter into a cough. "Ha, ha, it's not all fun and games looking like this. Ex _cuse_ me if I want to get away from the superhero stereotype in my fantasies."

        "My goodness, Clark," Lex said mildly, his eyes twinkling. "You admit to having fantasies? methinks the farm boy has been . . . corrupted."

        Clark just _knew_ he turned bright red. Well, yeah, _of course_ he had his fantasies, but they were _private_ fantasies! And not as . . . dirty as Lex made them sound. Okay, most of them weren't. "Anyway, dating!" he said desperately. "I like height, because nothing is more embarrassing than having to scrunch down a lot to kiss your date. I don't like body hair, I like pale eyes, and, if they have hair, it has to be red."

        "What do you mean, 'if they have hair'?"Lex asked, suddenly far too interested for Clark's peace of mind.

        Clark was far past red now and into purple. "You know, I told Mom I'd call," he babbled, "so I'm just going to go and call her and wish her a merry Christmas and then _you_ can call Hope or Mercy or Hope _and_ Mercy and wish them a merry Christmas and, and—" He reflexively caught the small package Lex tossed at him.

        "I changed my mind," Lex told him,, nodding at the package. " _That's_ the gift I wanted to give you in 2001."

        Clark gestured half-heartedly towards the phone. "But I've gotta call my mom," he said weakly.

        " _Open it_ , Clark."

        Clark bowed beneath the unwavering steel in Lex's voice and started liking at the ribbon.

        It wasn't a very good wrapping job, really, which may have been the fault of the size of the gift itself. The paper certainly _looked_ like it had been there since 2001 and, moreover, looked as if it had been handled just a bit more than it should have been. The tape was pretty much all that was keeping it wrapped, and it was still doing an admirable job. He finally gave up and just gripped the tape and tore it off.

        He opened it.

        "There was no way in hell," Lex said quietly, "that I could give a fifteen year old boy that. Age of consent, sodomy laws . . . . Both were valid reasons to keep it to myself for a little while longer. The 'while' part just . . . took too long to end and, almost before I knew it, we were no longer speaking."

        Clark traced the strokes of the golden kanji with a gentle finger. it hung on a simple black cord, a setting far too plain for what it stood for. _Ai_ , the Japanese character for love, hidden by both of them for far too long.

        He lifted it slowly and brought it over his head, fiddling with the kanji's position until it fell exactly right.

        "Thank you." Lex's voice was not too solemn to disguise his relief.

        "I wish I had something to give to you," Clark said helplessly.

        Lex stretched in a disgustingly sexy way and brought the stuffed reindeer forward. He wagged it at Clark and the brunet scowled at him. The moment was effectively broken.

        "Something for _you_ ," he clarified. "Not something I deprived Lois of so I could shut you up."

        Lex laughed. "It's the thought that counts," he teased and Clark didn't bother to restrain his impulse to throw a pillow at him and follow that up with a tackle.

***

        They joked about the origin of the reindeer to their friends, but Clark was acutely aware thereafter that, wherever Lex was, the reindeer was sure to be close by, watching over their life with a cheery grin and—fir eleven months of the year—unseasonal cheer.

        He knew both he and Lex wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
